Daughter of the Sea
by C. R. Lane
Summary: We all know the tale of the Turner Family. Or do we? William Turner II, only child of Bill 'Bootstrap' Turner-pirate. But what if William Sr. did have another child? How does that change our beloved story? Only slightly, perhaps. We shall see. Though it is not bound or limited to the movies, this fiction follows the basic plot line of Dead Man's Chest to At World's End.
1. Prologue

Prologue

"Cordelia!"

Though her name rang through the streets of Kingston, twelve year old Cordelia Abney did not pay any mind. She would most likely be whipped for this, but she did not care. Cordelia simply gathered her skirts and ran faster. She was supposed to have left ten minutes ago. And she prayed that she would make it in time.

As she raced down the back alleys to the boat-docks, Cord blinked back tears. It seemed to her that the older she grew, the worse her life became. James Norrington was her only friend and he was leaving. For his 'best interest', his family had told him, but they both knew differently. His family had always disapproved of her, and tried to keep them apart the best they could. They firmly believed that places in society were not to be mixed. And Cord, being a housemaid, was far beneath their son. But in spite of his parent's attempts, the bond between Cord and James only grew. And that, Cord believed, was why they were leaving Kingston.

When the docks came into view, Cordelia stopped, breathless, and scanned the area. There were many boats awaiting departure in the bay, their crews scurrying about. Through the boisterous sound of men barking out orders to their shipmates, she heard her name. Turning, Cord saw James waving from afar. A rush of emotions swept over her as she ran to him.

"James," she gasped, taking his hands. He smiled softly, yet sadly. There was no telling how long it would be before they would see each other again.

"Here," James said, removing a chain from about his neck. "I want you to have this." He slipped it gently over her head. She grasped it, brushing her fingers across the gold fob watch. It was beautifully engraved, his initials etched on the front, and even played a tuned when opened.

"James, I can't keep this. Your grandfather gave it to you."

"Keep it for now. I'll get it back from you, someday, when we see each other again," he promised, "As long as you wear it, I'll always come back."

James looked over his shoulder quickly, a woman's voice rising upon the air.

"James Norrington, where, in the name of heaven, are you?"

"It's Mother," he gulped, laying his hands on her thin shoulders. James bit his lip, watching the life drain from Cord's blue eyes. For an instant, he thought about kissing her, but decided against it. He hugged her tightly, before running off. "I'll write you!" he called.

Fighting back the urge to run after him, Cord raised her hand in farewell. She sighed as he faded from sight. "Godspeed, my friend," she whispered.


	2. Prologue (part 2)

Her father was a traveling merchant who journeyed by wagon across the country of Jamaica. He was a poor and humble man. He and her mother, Daralis, had been married a little over five months when he met his untimely death.

As he made his way home one day, the team of horses was suddenly startled. They began running out of his control. While he tried reining them to a halt, the wagon hit a hollow in the roadway. Witnesses said he was thrown as the wagon turned over and must have snapped his neck in the fall. It was a tragic accident- at least that is what Cordelia had been told. Now, as the _truth_ sank in, Cord understood everything.

Cord's heart had stopped when the doctor came out from her mother's room, his face drawn and ashen. She had known that Daralis was ill, but never expected her to die because of it.

Drawing closer to death's door, Daralis' hidden guilt finally surfaced. She had promised herself long ago that her baby girl would never know, but under a curtain of remorse she decided it was time that the truth be told.

Anguished and broken, Cord now sat at the edge of her bed. Her mother was not even buried a week and her employer was discharging her.

_"__Your mother was a fine worker,"_ Mr. Barrett began, _"You have our condolences, but I'm afraid we cannot keep you on."_

_"__B…But, Sir, I know my mother's duties! I can take her place! It would take a new servant two __**weeks**__ to learn what I am already capable of!" _she pleaded, but it did no good.

_"__We were gracious enough to have taken your mother on with child at her side. To be frankly honest, I never approved of the matter. It was my wife who was struck with pity for Daralis. And we've paid the price ever since. I can no longer tolerate such indecency in my household. I'm sorry, Miss Abney, but you will have to seek new employment." _And with that he had dismissed her.

Cord packed her bag with nary a sound. She grew tired of crying and found that she could not even if she wanted to. Instead, she pondered her mother's last words to her. Cord's life was a lie; but that only scratched the surface.

For the sixteen years of her life, Kingston looked down upon her, nearly shunning her entirely. Cord had always felt their watching eyes as they stared and whispered, making her wonder what unknown wrong she had committed against them. Now she knew that it was not anything she did, but it was _what_ she was.

Her father was not a merchant, nor was he poor or humble. They had met at a tavern in Tortuga. Daralis, being the bar maid, served him for roughly ten hours as he drank and flirted with her. It was just enough time for her to naively fall madly in love with him, and him to get completely smashed.

The next morning he was gone and Daralis never heard from him again. There was very little that she learned about him over that short time. He had a son named, William, and his young wife had died. That compiled her knowledge, save his name.

Understandably, this was hard for Cordelia to take in. She had been a mistake; a regrettable accident. As a result, her mother's name was disgraced; her reputation scandalized. And Cord's father…was a pirate. 


	3. Chapter 1

Folding a yellowed letter, Cord returned it to its pocket on the inside of her coat and continued walking. Her last letter from James had been signed like all the others, '_Forever your friend, James A. Norrington'_. And in each he promised to write her as often as he could, but the last one she received had arrived nearly twelve years ago. Until a year ago, upon her visit to Port Royal, Cord had heard no word about him. Save the new information she obtained about James, she found her trip to be a waste. She had gone there in hopes to find her brother, Port Royal being the last location in which he resided.

Cord glanced around. _So, this is the almighty Tortuga,_ she thought. A place of sin and piracy, truly it was, and Cord could scarcely believe that her mother use to live there. As she searched about the town, her eyes fell upon the tavern Daralis had described to her. It appeared to be quite busy, the vulgar tones ringing down the dimly lit street. Cordelia started slightly, glass shattering just as she neared the swinging doors. She clutched at the fob watch that hung about her neck, the tension fading as she did. Squaring her shoulders and resting her hand on her sword, Cord stepped inside. After scanning the room, she made her way to the bar. The bartender flew about busily as he filled mugs of ale from a tapped barrel. She picked up her hand slightly, signaling him that she wanted one. He came back moments later and set a mug in front of her. As Cord slid a shilling across the counter, she leaned in, speaking to him briefly. Though a look of puzzlement crossed his face, he bobbed in agreement. She nodded her thanks then walked to the end of the counter, her ale in hand. With the help of a stool, Cord jumped onto the bar, raising her mug and whistling sharply.

"Now listen here, men, and listen well!" she began in a bellowing voice, "I find myself in the need of your services." Cord cleared her throat as silence swept the room. There were a few snickers, but when she felt she had their attention she continued. "I'm looking for the son of Bill 'Bootstrap' Turner," she said, lengthily emphasizing every word. "And I'm willing to pay the fool's price of ten shillings to anyone who can lead me to him. But don't be hasty lads, for I do not trust an anxious man."

"What be your name, little lady?" called a voice from the back.

"My name? My name is a simple word, meaningless to those who don't already know what it is. But by the name 'Destreza' I may be found." She stood there a moment more then, once the room became filled with voices again, carefully got down. As the bar became more crowded, Cord carefully picked her way towards the back. She glanced about for an empty table and spotted one in the back corner.

Someone bumped her elbow as she reached the edge of the multitude, her ale splashing over the side of her mug. She looked down, growling about the mess it made. Cordelia's eyes flicked up and a young man stood in front of her. His deep brown hair was pulled back and his mustache was neatly trimmed. Even when Cord squared her shoulders, he still stood more than a head taller than her.

"Dead or alive?" he said vaguely,

"Beg your pardon?" Cord raised her brow.

"Do you want William Turner dead or alive?" Cord studied him a brief moment, noting his shrewd stance. There was something different about him. Clearly, he was not a bounty hunter.

"Neither. I want to find him; in whatever state he may be," she replied, correcting him.

"Ten shillings is a high price. What does he mean to you?" His eyes narrowed.

"I believe that is my business. Good evening," Cord nodded and stepped around him.

"What do you want with William Turner?" The man continued to pester her and her nerves where growing thin. Setting her ale on a table at her side, Cordelia whipped around, drawing her sword.

"You know him, don't you?" she asked, his blade clashing with hers. When he gave no reply, she advanced and quickly disarmed him. His sword fell to the floor with a clatter. The young man looked back at her, his eyes wide in confusion.

"You've never been beaten before? Well, don't worry, it won't happen again," Cord muttered, sheathing her sword. With not another word, she turned and walked away. She had not gotten far when he grasped her arm. She jerked, trying to rip free, when her back slamming against a post. He held his cold steel to her throat.

"What do you want with Will Turner?" he repeated. Cord stiffened, but did not answer. She stared into his dark brown eyes. They were soft, glazed in nothing but honesty. She found no trace of anger behind them, merely concern. But why? Why was he so troubled with the welfare of William Turner? Then it dawned on her.

"You won't kill me," Cord stated. He looked at her queerly. "You're not like any of these men. What's a decent fellow like you doing in a place like this?"

"I'm looking for someone," he said, releasing her.

"Who?"

"I've answered your question. You've yet to answer any of mine."

Cord motioned for him to follow as she slid into a booth. He sat across from her, resting his arms on the table top.

"I'm not as naïve as you may think," she began, "You must realize that I know who you are." The young man's eyes danced nervously. She had cornered him; now, there was only one way to be sure. "William," He met her gaze and held it. Cord smiled, her goal achieved. He leaned back, exhaling disappointedly.

"Was it really that easy?" William asked, drumming his fingers on the table.

"I don't know a whole lot about people, but there are two things I know for sure. There aren't too many folks that would stick their neck out for someone else's." Will raised his brow when she did not continue.

"And the second?"

"I'm one of them," she replied simply. She paused a moment, taking a sip of her ale. "My name is Cord," said the girl as she extended her hand. He clasped it, giving a curt nod. "I've been looking for you for a long time. But I never stopped to think about what I would say once I did. It isn't going to be easy to hear, but you must."

William's mind flew to his fiancée, Elizabeth. Was she safe? Had Beckett gone against his word and had her hung before he could return? He clenched his jaw, swallowing. "What is it?" Cordelia's stomach knotted. Where should she start? She had to be completely honest, though it was not likely that he would believe her. Cord cleared her throat.

"My mother once knew a pirate with the last name of 'Turner'." she took a quick drink, insecure about how she had started. Nervously, she began again. "I come from Kingston; as far back as I can remember, that is. My mother had always told me that my father died in a wagon accident before I was born. I was sixteen when the good Lord called her home. And it wasn't until that day that I learned the truth," Cord paused slightly, noting she had peaked his interest. "He wasn't dead." William's eyes shifted, his face masked in confusion.

"I'm not old enough to be your father," he said, attempting a stiff laugh. Cordelia shook her head.

"That's only a part. Before my mother died, she told me that I had a brother. A half-brother."

"What are you saying?"

"You're my brother, Will." All air left her chest as she uttered the words. The young man stared at her, blinking rapidly.

"That can't be." His brow furrowed, his dark eyes widened.

"That's what I said," Cord murmured softly, lowering her face. All other sounds were now drowned out by the blood pounding in her ears.

"My father _was_ a pirate. But he was a _good_ man," The bitterness in his tone made it unclear to whether he believed her or not. "He loved my mother."

"Yes, he did," she whispered, holding back a disheartening cry. "She said that was all he talked about." William stared at the young woman, studying her. Her deep blue eyes showed no sign of deception. But what reason would she have to deceive him? None that he could conceive. What if she _was_ telling the truth? Could she really be his sister? Surveying Cord closely, he considered her ears, nose, and hands. The more he studied them the more he saw familiarities; they strongly resembled his own.

"Do you know my mother's name?" he asked, grasping blindly for the truth.

"No," she shook her head in dismay, "But my mother gave me this." Cordelia reached into her coat pocket. "She said he left it behind." He took the trinket she handed him, brushing his thumb over the gold locket. "I assumed the picture is of your mother." Will opened it slowly; this was the defining moment.

After glancing over the small portrait, he sighed, his lips mashing together. "It's true." Cord lifted her gaze, meeting his. His dark eyes softened as he took her hand. "I'm sorry."

"You had no reason to believe me. I wasn't sure that I believed it all myself. It wasn't until I reached Port Royal that I found out you even existed." she said softly.

"You were in Port Royal?"

"Last year. But I was told by a drunken blacksmith that you had left, and he didn't expect you to return." Her words refreshed William's memory, and he was quickly reminded of his mission. As much as he wanted to stay, he had to leave. Elizabeth's life was at stake. Pushing himself out of the booth, he rose swiftly.

"Where are you going?" Cord asked in confusion.

"I'm sorry. I have to go. I have to find him before it's too late." The desperation in his voice alarmed her.

"Who? A friend of yours?"

"Jack Sparrow," he replied. Cord felt as though he struck her. If he only knew how long she had searched for the famed pirate. Ever since she had learned of their father's death. And now, her brother was searching for him also. Her luck could not have been better.

"Let me come with you," she asked expressly.

Will shook his head. "It could be dangerous." Cord gave him a rather grieved look.

"I have nothing to hold me here. I've been alone along time and danger does not frighten me," she paused slightly, "And I'd like to be where you are, if you'll have me." Will took one look into her shining blue eyes and knew that he could not turn her away. He had not known her long but in the short period he had, he had developed a fondness for her. And she was his sister, after all.

"You needn't be alone any longer. We stick together. That's what families' do," he said softly. Cord smiled, following him out the tavern. _Family_, a simple word never sounded more beautiful.


End file.
